


After/Before

by pairatime



Series: Mickey's family [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pairatime/pseuds/pairatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey has been Ian’s sub for a couple of years but always in private, always alone but Ian’s had enough of that. So Mickey gets owned publicly at a party but when it’s over it’s time to go home. Only home and family just makes everything more complicated, especially when he might have more family than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After/Before

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: First off, this is set after/during the loft party that takes place in  
> 4x8 all events on the show that happen after, meaning Ian’s bipolarness are ignored. This was written at two main chunks, part one was written then after a break part two. This is why the tone and feel of them changes a little. Second, I had not planned on Tony. He just kind of happened and for a sub he’s rather pushy it seems.  
> Author’s note2: The art, created by the talented lj's froggyfun365 is just perfect and fits the story so well. I hope you enjoy it as you read the story.
> 
> And last Julie for helping me love this show so much and for the great editing job.

[ ](http://s55.photobucket.com/user/pairatime/media/others%20work/Mickey-Ian%20KBB%20-%20divider%20-%20250x800_zpsclopewml.png.html)

***Prolog: The Club***

Ian was smirking at him.

Ian was smirking at him and there were faggots and homos everywhere.

Mickey had been in the club for almost half an hour and he hadn’t really…hadn’t seen…

Men were dancing on the bars with shorts so skimpy- well Mickey had underwear with more fabric to them. Two men were grinding on each other, hard…everyone here was gay…everyone was a fucking ‘mo.

Just like them….and they wouldn’t care what he and Ian did…fuck, half of them wanted Ian to sub for them and the other half probably wanted him to dom the fuck out of them, fucking backwards pricks.

Mickey pulled his gaze back to Ian…standing there and smirking like he always did when he knew he was going to win…fucker tried to kiss him in public and then just….smirked.

But Mickey wanted it too, fuck him but he did…he fucking wanted it…he wanted everything that Ian was offering, had, offered, was always offering and more. He wanted it all, everything.

And for at least this one night he was going to let himself have it, Mickey promised himself. He gave the club one more look, taking it all in. Then Mickey turned his focus to Ian, grabbing his redhead by the neck and kissing him.

Nice and intense and unlike every kiss they’d had before. The kiss was slow and cool. They took their time. It was rarely done between them. It had always been hungry passion and frantic action before time ran out. But this time…this time was different. Open, erotic, sensual, and drawn out. Like they had all the time in the world and wanted to use it all on just this one kiss. 

And in front of every fucking queer boy in the club. For once, for once not giving a shit what they thought of him because they didn’t matter. Not tonight.

This night was his, it was Ian’s.

It was theirs.

***The Morning After***

Mickey watched as the man walked away before turning to give Ian a long look.

The redhead was still passed out on the other half of the bed where he’d put him only a few hours before, almost completely unmoved. Mickey could even still see the creases in Ian’s sleeve from where he had been holding his dom; holding him the whole time they slept side by side. Mickey couldn’t remember the last time he’s slept that long and deep in an unknown place, open and filled with strangers as well.

But he had, he had last night because of…because Gallagher. “Yo, dude,” Mickey called out, turning back toward the party’s host, now in the kitchen area. “Gallagher likes pancakes, and throw in some fruit shit if you got it,” Mickey added, pushing himself up from the pullout bed, his gaze traveling back to Ian as he did.

“Fruit shit,” Brian said, and Mickey could hear the amusement in his voice. It was almost enough to make him want to turn around and knock out the guy’s teeth, but Ian wouldn’t like that. “I’ll have to see what I have, there might be leftover strawberries from the daiquiris. You still just want eggs? Coffee?” 

The additional questions were finally enough for Mickey to turn from Ian and toward the kitchen, his focus tracking the host and the others milling around enjoying the morning, some still kissing, holding hands and all that faggoty shit before they landed on the coffee maker. “Fucking definitely.” He answered, heading right for it, stopping to glare at it when he realized it was one of those fancy yuppie one-cup-at-a-time machines.

He could only stare at it. “Fucking hell, you can’t even have real fucking coffee?” Mickey questioned, unsure where to start as he continued to look at it, remembering the weird beers from the night before. Not even sure where to begin, Mickey started flicking his way through the small stack of flavored cups, tossing them about trying to find something that wasn’t gay. No way was he starting his day with some caramel vanilla cream crap.

“It’s so hot that it’s not an act,” Brian commented to one of the other guest before coming over to stand next to Mickey. “We’ll use French Roast. It’s as close to regular coffee as you’ll find,” he said, picking one of the plastic cups up and sliding it into the coffee maker.

From there it looked normal enough, water drained from the tank in the back and light caramel color liquid dripped into the plain red mug. “Thanks,” Mickey said, frowning as he mentally reviewed the steps so he could make the second cup if he needed.

He watched as Brian smiled at him before heading back over to the stove where most of the burners seemed to have the different breakfast options on them. Mickey looked on as Brian poured the yellow egg mixture into one pan before flipping the golden pancakes on another griddle while checking the egg-soaked toast on the third. It only took another moment for him to tell that Brian was doing it all on his own.

Mickey panned around at the near two dozen men still hanging around the loft, while a handful-- like Ian-- were still sleeping. Most of the men were out and up, moving around, chatting with one another, and even with Brian, eating the food Brian was cooking, and in the case of one pair enjoying some morning play. The one thing none of them were doing was helping with the cooking.

“You’re a Dom, right? I mean I was pretty sure you are. You did tie up those guys real well and then spank the shit out of them last night. That was you, right? You’re not one of those fucking weird service tops are you?” Mickey asked bluntly, looking back at Brian while thinking of the party the night before.

“You mean like Ian?”

Mickey wanted to scowl at the amused tone in Brian’s voice, almost as much as he wanted to at the idea of Ian being a service top, which he wasn’t, not really. “That fucking shit is just for work, if he wasn’t getting paid for it he wouldn’t be giving them the time of day. Ian does not get his rocks off pleasing other guys like some subby Dom,” Mickey spat out aggressively, defending Ian.

“Whoa there, didn’t mean to dis your Dom,” Brian said, the amusement not leaving his voice as Mickey watched him flip the toast. “I know he’s not a service top. And as for me, well I’m a bondage Dom. I get my _rocks off_ tying them up. I may play a bit with them, mostly my hand or a paddle, but my love is in the rope work.”

Brian kept talking. And from the near giddiness Mickey heard as he listened to the guy, Mickey got just how much he had to love it. How much he had to love putting out and using the ropes on a sub, and given what he’d seen last night…the guy had skills to back up his lust.

***The Night Before***

Mickey smacked his lips as he tasted the second beer, some fucking winter wheat crap. But he had to admit, even if only to himself, that it wasn’t that bad. He’d had worse anyways, most of it at the _Alibi Room_.

Mickey leaned into Ian as he took in the party, he’d been to worse parties too, switching his glance to his redhead before looking back toward the show that held Ian’s--and everyone else’s--attention.

Strung up by ropes hanging from the ceiling, a lanky ebony-skinned man spun and twisted as the host, Brian, slowly played with the toy, adding ropes to move and shift arms and legs while tightening or loosening others to change the pose. Alternating between snapping photos and using his hand or a small collection of tools to change the shade of his subject’s ass or back every few minutes as he did so.

It was pretty and hypnotic and unlike any beating Mickey had ever seen. Brian cared for his toy. His hands may have been inflicting pain or shifting ropes but his lips were flowing with encouragement and praise, when they weren’t lightly kissing the dark skin of his sub and toy

And every time the sub’s face turned toward them, Mickey could see only bliss on his expression, his slack face somehow still smiling, his eyes blown so wide Mickey could see it from across the loft. The guy was loving every second of it, and the Dom hadn’t even touched the sub’s jockstrap-clad cock.

“God, he looks fucking amazing.”

Ian’s whispered words drew Mickey’s eyes from the display to the redhead standing beside him. “Yeah,” because Mickey couldn’t disagree at all, the pair did look fucking amazing to borrow his guy’s words. “You wanna do something? With, not me but…not that you should be looking at other--it’s hot right?” Mickey rambled before shoving his bottle between his lips to shut himself up, cursing himself.

“Fuck yes I want to do that, but not with just anyone,” Ian said his voice and breathe suddenly very close to Mickey’s ear.

The soft tone and puff of warm moist air barely inches from his skin sent a shiver right through Mickey. He shut his eye and he let out a groan, fighting the urge to lean into Ian. Fighting it until he remembered the kiss in the club and the promise he made to himself to be bold tonight, to be himself. 

He leaned into Ian.

He forced himself to open his eyes and not resist when he felt Ian’s hands on his shoulders. Ian slid around behind Mickey. “Only with someone special.” Another shiver went though him at the seductive voice from Ian even as the other man’s hands moved down his arms, just light enough for Mickey to tell they were there until they firmly clasped his wrist before slowly pulling them behind him, “someone I know I can really call _mine_.”

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey hissed, pulling his ear away from the teeth that had just bitten lightly into it. “We’re in public,” Mickey added, trying not to think about just how hard he was in his jeans, and how nice the rock solid press of Ian’s cock felt grinding into his ass.

“I know, it’s hotter isn’t it?”

Mickey wanted to say no. Say that it wasn’t fucking hotter, that it wasn’t making him harder and pushing fucking buttons he didn’t even know he had. But as he felt Ian slowly slide a hand around to his front, feeling the redhead’s thin wiry fingers wrap themselves around his jean covered cock, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even think, he was so lost in the sensation. Every touch, every bit of his skin Ian’s own skin brushed, every word whispered into his ear…all felt so damn good.

Ian’s hand pushing him to his knees while slowly turning him around. Ian’s groin with its scent, an aroma of sweat and gas station soap that was all Ian, filling his nose, the coarse fabric of his pants with its tiny zipper pressed to his own pale skin, the only thing dulling the smell, blocking the source. 

He wanted it. He wanted Ian and for—maybe not the first time but one of the few times in his life-- he didn’t give a fuck who knew and who saw.

“I said anytime I wanted, and you agreed, Mickey.” The voice ringing in his ears, a hand roughly pulling at his hair, forcing him to look up at his…his Ian while the standing man’s other hand freed his cock, letting the smell redouble in potency. “Now suck me off, boy.”

Mickey couldn’t do anything but obey when he was pulled onto the cock even as it was thrust into him, past his lips and tongue, right to the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, breathing through his nose, flooding his mind with more of Ian’s scent as he complied.

And for one of the few times in his life…he felt right.

***The Morning After***

Mickey had to admit it was good food as he sat back on the bed next to Ian, shoving another forkful of scramble eggs into his mouth while snuggles--that is settling-- next to Ian again.

And they weren’t the crappy dry as fuck eggs and milk he and Mandy grew up with. Having to fend for themselves as soon as they could reach the stovetop meant they had to learn how to cook young by necessity. It had been about survival so they learned just enough to get by so neither of them had ever gotten any good at it. This guy, though? Brian’s skill clearly went beyond rope work. Mickey had been skeptical when he saw him dump the peppers and cheese into the pan with the eggs, but goddamn if it wasn’t the best fucking thing Mickey had eaten in a long time. Brian was just as skilled with his kitchen as with his ropes.

And Brian had to love it almost as much as his other skills. That had to be why the guy was cooking it himself when he had at least a half dozen subs around him, willing to do whatever he asked of them, Mickey thought as he watched Brian cooking up a plate for another one of his guests while chatting with the men standing and sitting around the kitchen space, hanging on their host’s every word while they patiently waited for their food to be served.

“But why the fuck? Dom’s don’t cook,” Mickey muttered to himself as he watched the others still in the kitchen before glancing down at his plate.

“If you think that, you really need to spend a few days at my place.”

Mickey jumped at the sudden voice beside him as Ian turned, still nuzzling into Mickey’s coat, which he’d been using for a pillow. “What, fuck Gallagher, how long have you been awake? Let a guy know,” he complained, reaching over to smack Ian lightly on the shoulder.

“But I like watching you, its fun.”

“Fun, right,” Mickey grumbled, only just keeping himself from smiling as he felt Ian push himself up before draping himself partially onto Mickey. That’s when he spotted one of Ian’s fingers going for one of the larger egg chucks on his plate. “Go and get your own plate, fire-crotch,” he said, blocking the fingers and moving the plate.

“He has eggs for me? Cool,” Ian said, jumping off the foldout bed.

“Pancakes, I told him you like pancakes…you do, right?” Mickey asked. He hated not knowing for sure, and he’d really hate it if he had to share his eggs because he got it wrong.

“Pancakes, awesome.” 

Mickey felt himself relax at the obvious excitement in his Ian’s voice; he hadn’t been wrong, good. 

“Yeah, and I told him you like that fruit shit in your pancakes too,” Mickey added with a smile, putting his plate aside and getting up to follow Ian over to the kitchen area.

The grin Mickey saw play across Ian’s lips and the delight in his eyes at the statement did something to Mickey. It made him feel happier, felt good. “The guy even has all this fancy ass yuppie one cup at a time coffee shit with all these damn flavors, fucking flavors for your coffee,” he added, heading toward the coffee maker.

Mickey cut the line with a glare, the other guys at the party were fucking pussies, and stared at the device, walking himself through the steps before glancing at the pile of flavor cups. “What fucking flavor you want?” he asked, flicking his way through the pile seeing what all was there and if anything would stand out as clearly Ian.

“Caramel mocha, or just caramel,” Ian answered back.

He didn’t give the white cups more then a glance but Mickey didn’t miss the way Ian’s gaze slowly traveled up his body…fuck he wasn’t normally the one getting cruised.

Fighting the blush he could feel beginning, Mickey flicked the non-caramel cups out of the way, hunting for a caramel mocha one, grabbing it and slipping the plastic into the maker and going through the steps to make it. Moments later when the light brown liquid started dripping into the black mug Mickey didn’t even try and stop himself from smiling. He’d remembered how all on his own. 

The smile wanted to turn into a scowl the moment he looked toward Ian to see his...his man chatting with the host, and getting far to close and friendly for Mickey’s liking. But he didn’t let himself; the guy wasn’t going to get between Ian and him. But no reason not to make that clear to the dude.

“Ian, coffee,” he said, cutting off whatever Brian had been saying, handing the mug to Ian. “Caramel mocha, all fresh and shit. Not sure what’s wrong with plain old cup of Joe,” Mickey said, trying to not grin too much at the smile Ian gave him after his first mouthful.

“Thanks Mickey,” Ian’s response was low and playful.

Just as playful as the hand that snaked Mickey’s neck, sliding up until Ian’s fingers were woven between the strands of Mickey’s dark hair, using them to force Mickey closer to him, not that Mickey needed much of a push. But without another word Mickey was so close he could feel the heat coming off Ian, smell the caramel on his lips, feel how hard and horny Ian was.

“It’s really good coffee,” Ian added, taking another sip before pulling Mickey the rest of the way toward him, locking their lips.

It was hot, and not sexy hot but really fucking hot as the splashes of coffee spilled from Ian’s mouth to his own along with the tongue that seemed everywhere at once. He had to swallow the drink just to keep breathing and he could feel it heating up his throat and everything else as it went.

But as Ian broke the kiss and smirked at him Mickey had to admit, damn it was good coffee, especially mixed with Ian. But then he just loved that particular flavor.

***The Night Before***

Salt on his tongue, fingers digging into his scalp and panting moans, low and throaty, filling his ears. Mickey felt good.

Even as Ian slid out and the hands were no longer in his hair he still felt good leaning against Ian’s leg, resting and trusting his…trusting Ian. It felt right.

“That’s my good boy Mickey,” the soft words from Ian, and the light brush of fingers through his hair, heated up his face, hell his whole body. Hearing the word boy from anyone else’s lips made him want to fucking punch their lights out, make them bleed but from Ian…it was so different. He felt…happy, fucking happy, even if he hadn’t gotten off.

“When’s… fuck,” fuck what was wrong with his voice Mickey thought, clearing his throat. “When’s it’s my fucking turn…” He was so hard in his pants. 

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even taken his dick out yet. It wouldn’t take Ian more then a moment to bring him off. “I’m going to fucking shoot right in my jeans like a highschool bitch if we don’t do something soon,” Mickey complained, pushing himself off Ian enough so he’s be able to reach his crotch, grabbing for the zipper.

“No!” Ian’s tone was blunt and direct. And it went right from Mickey’s ear directly to his cock even as the rest of his body seemed to lock up, bypassing his brain as it obeyed.

“Fuck?” Mickey said, looking up at Ian, his hands, fuck the rest of his body unable to move. “I need to blow a load, like now. Trust me it won’t take me long,” Mickey assured his lover. “like one two pumps,” Or you just touching it, Mickey added to himself.

“No.” Ian repeated, and again the tone, the feeling behind it, did things to Mickey. His entire body felt tight and ready to burst at the sound, not just his cock.

“What the fuck? You got off-” He complained, stopping at the feel—warm, soft yet firm--and smell—dollar store soap and sweat--of Ian’s hand covering his mouth.

“I want you hard Mickey.” Ian started as he leaned low, as low as his voice, “I want you hard when I strip you. I want you hard when I pull the ropes tight and hang you in the air,” Ian went on as he took Mickey by the shoulders and turned him back around to where Brian was removing the bindings from his boy one by one, still having fun and making a game of freeing the toy.

Mickey’s breath caught in his throat as he realized where this was going. He let his gaze travel around the room, remembering all the other people again. He felt like everyone had to be looking at him, had been as he sucked off Ian, as Ian told him he wasn’t getting off and fuck if that didn’t push buttons making him harder. Fuck, how hard can a guy get before he just loses it.

“I want you hard when I open that ass and I want you hard when I fuck the come out of you Mickey. While everyone watches. Like the sound of that, boy?” Ian stated, his hands taking control of Mickey’s again, pulling them behind him.

He wanted it. He wanted Ian to do that, he fucking needed it, “Fuck yeah. Do that to me,” Mickey almost couldn’t believe he was asking for it. He was really asking for it, fuck he never wanted it before, never for more then a moments daydream he knew could never fucking happen anyways. But now, fuck.

Mickey couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but what Ian wanted as Ian guided him to the center of the play space.

***The Morning After***

“Damn that’s hot.” Someone who wasn’t Ian said.

Mickey blinked for a moment and had to shake his head before remembering that he and Ian weren’t alone, cranking his neck to see who has made the comment. It was the guy that had kept wanting to talk to him about being a pimp for some fucking school thing, Gabe or some shit. And he was eyeing Ian way too closely.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Mickey stated, glaring at Gabe, or whatever his name was, and anyone else who liked to be to interested in Ian, which seemed to be everyone, fuck they need to back off Mickey added to himself, pulling himself closer to his guy.

Mickey frowned a bit at the chuckle he felt, and heard, from Ian, “And just what ideas are you afraid he’ll get? Think he wants some coffee?” Ian offered, looking at the guy, “Want to try some Gabriel? It’s really good coffee. Taste almost as good as Mickey, and together….” the redhead commented with a smirk, taking another mouthful from his mug, eyeing Gabriel.

And Mickey wasn’t sure if the feeling that flushed through him was from the remark about his taste or the jealousy at Ian making the other guy blush, because the bastard _was_ blushing, but only one of them was getting him worked up, or mattered at all. “You get I don’t share. I mean, what’s mine is mine. You get that right?” Mickey demanded refocusing his attention on Ian and blocking out the rest of the room. “If I’m in this, you’re mine.” 

“I think you have this backwards.”

Mickey had barely heard the words before his world went spinning. Ian’s hands on him, pushing him into the kitchen counter, the air being forced out of him as his stomach was shoved into the black marble top, bending him over. He wrestled back at first, his gut telling him he had to, but his heart and dick slowed him down until he felt himself being pushed into the counter, a plate half under one side and a glass right there when he opened his eyes. But it was Ian’s familiar weight pressing into his back, fingers wrapped around his wrists, it all just felt… so good.

“You’re mine, got it, Mickey?” The words were whispered right into his ears, and bypassed everything as they went right to his dick making him fucking hard all over again. Mickey wasn’t sure if he was ever really going to be soft around Ian again, not that he had been often before but, fuck, it wasn’t this damn hard before.

“Got it, Mickey? You’re mine, say it.” Ian’s voice, Ian’s mouth, was right there by his ear and fuck.

When the words, question, fucking order—because that’s what it sure as shit felt like it was—came the second time he wanted to answer. It was almost a need but somehow he couldn’t. He couldn’t say anything, he could barely groan. He was barely able to think. 

“You remember who’s in charge here, Mickey? You said it last night, acted like you meant it this morning, say it again, Mickey.”

He swallowed hard, craning his neck to look up at Ian. He tried speaking but…he still didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure he could say anything but if he did speak he…he wanted to tell Ian to fuck off, that he’d said it because he wanted to be fucked, he wanted to get off. But part of him…part of him knew that wasn’t the truth. Knew he had wanted to say it then, knew he wanted to be able to just stay it again. Like the night before. A part off him knew he meant every word he had said the night before. And that even if he couldn’t say it now, he still meant it.

And fuck it all, Mickey wanted to fucking say it.

***The Night Before***

He relaxed into the ropes, into Ian, and let go.

“Yeah that’s right, Mickey, I’ve got you.”

Mickey let the words flow over him just as he let the ropes glide over the skin of his bare chest, pulling tight the farther from the ceiling he dropped letting himself sink into Ian’s arms.

Then he felt the other rope, the one around his neck, drawing tighter. The moment he felt it biting he stopped, pushing himself up with his legs, away from Ian until the rope was slack. And all Mickey could see was the disappointment in Ian’s eyes.

“Trust me, boy. Be _mine_ , Mickey, be mine.”

Mickey heard the words but it was the look. He wanted to please Ian, he wanted Ian to smile at him. “Ian—”

“Trust me.” The words cut what he was going to say. Not that it mattered. The hand that accompanied them, the hand that ran across his face and through his hair, kept him from even being able to think. He could only focus on Ian’s heat. The hand on him and the body before him.

He closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the hand. The way it cupped the side of his face, the way the thumb brushed the skin of his check right under his eye. The way his hair felt as Ian’s fingers ruffled through them. The warmth, heat, coming from Ian’s palm. Matched by the heat coming from Ian himself, just inches away. The way it felt was just amazing, the way it all felt so right, so good. He didn’t want it to stop.

Without opening his eyes, he leaned toward that heat, toward Ian. He felt the rope pull tight into his neck again, “Ian…” He didn’t like how his voiced sounded, hesitant…maybe…fuck it sounded scared, but he couldn’t help it. He was scared. He didn’t know if he could…

“For me, Mickey, for me.”

_For you,_ Mickey thought, lifting his feet and letting himself tip over into Ian, the rope tightening, forcing him to breathe slowly, “Ian…Sir,” Mickey gasped, floating in the air. Fighting the impulse to panic, to fight to ropes and get his feet back on the ground. But he shoved it down and focused on the hand, light against his check, on Ian, on his Sir.

“That’s my good boy.”

Mickey relaxed and let himself go as the voice washed over him. Trusting in the feel of Ian’s hands slowly gliding down his neck and over his body; along his back, he could feel Ian’s fingers running over his hips and down his legs, pulling them apart, then he felt the teeth. “Fuck, Ian.”

“Is it really me you want fucked Mickey?” The words, whispered in his ear, were accompanied by a… finger? Thumb? Running along his ass, pushing against his hole, just enough to make him feel it, before moving away. “Or should someone else be fucked?”

“Fuck, Christ… Ian-Sir,” Mickey panted. He tried to push back toward Ian, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do much of anything but hang there, dependant on Ian. And fuck if that didn’t make him even harder. “Get your fucking dick in me already,” he ordered.

Only it wasn’t a dick but the palm of Ian’s hand he felt a moment later, and it wasn’t on his asshole but his ass. “Shit, Ian,” he shouted, his eyes popping open in surprise at the jolt. He closed them moments later to keep himself from getting dizzy as the world spun from the force of the spanking, but they were open long enough for Mickey to realize that others were watching them. Watching him. Watching Ian play with him, use him and…and he loved it. He wanted them to see. He’d never wanted that before…  
“I know what you want, Mickey,” Ian whispered before nipping, his teeth, pushing against and then into Mickey’s skin. “And to get it,” Ian paused, trailing his tongue over Mickey’s nipple, sucking, and then closing his teeth around it, leaving it wet and moist in the open air when he moved on. Trailing lower, Ian didn’t say anything for a beat, and then he skimmed his lips higher again, kissing Mickey’s neck. “All you have to do is ask, Mickey.” The warm breath on Mickey’s skin was a soft counterpoint to the feel of Ian’s teeth that quickly followed. Mickey gasped, arching against the rope. “Tell me what you are, Mickey.”

Mickey forced himself to pause, not to beg as Ian was still asking, still saying what he wanted but as soon as Ian was done…Mickey wanted Ian, wanted to be Ian’s. And for once he didn’t care if Ian, or anyone else, knew.

“Fuck me, Sir. I’m yours and,” Mickey said, swallowing hard before going on, his voice trembling as he did. “I just want you to fuck me, please, Ian. I need it.” 

There was no answer at first, nothing. He didn’t feel or hear anything. Even when he opened his eyes he didn’t see anything that answered his plea, all he saw was Brian and a few of the others watching him, but no sign of Ian.

Then he felt it. The cool slick drizzle along his ass followed by fingers pushing into him. With a deep breath he relaxed. Doing his best to let Ian’s finger inside. Shivering at the pleasure when the cool finger explored him. 

And then a few minutes later, Ian taking him. Making him feel whole, complete, and content while everyone else looked on. Seeing how much he belonged to Ian. How much he was Ian’s. It felt right, he felt right. He felt…owned; wanted, loved.

He was Ian’s.

***The Morning After***

“Say it again now, Mickey. I mean it. I want to hear it.”

They were so close Mickey knew he could have whispered it and Ian would be able to near it loud and clear…but it wasn’t just for Ian. He didn’t want to just tell Ian. That wasn’t what he promised last night, what he felt last night.

“Yours,” Mickey blurted out, barely loud enough for him to be able to hear it over the pounding rushing surging of his heartbeat, filling his ears. It was only a single word but it felt like a damn breaking. “Yours,” he said again louder then the pounding. It felt like a shout, and from the way some of the other guys jumped it may have been, and it felt good. As did seeing the smile on Ian’s lips.

“You’re in charge. You Sir,” Mickey added after clearing his throat. Smiling at himself. He’d finally been able to say it. He called Ian Sir and they weren’t having sex…that…that was a first and he thought it felt fucking fantastic. “I’m yours, always,” he finished, leaning in for a kiss.

He has planned for a short kiss but when Ian’s hands hooked around his neck, keeping him close. He didn’t fight it, he went with it. He let himself enjoy the longer kiss. Mickey could still taste the coffee on Ian’s lips, on his tongue as it dominated his mouth. He might have to start springing for the overpriced faggoty coffee for his place if it meant Ian would kiss him like this more often.

“Mine.” Ian’s voice was rough, husky when he broke the kiss. And it went straight to Mickey’s already hard cock.

“Yours,” Mickey echoed, loving how good it felt to hear—say--those words. To know that someone wanted him, planned on keeping him. “Always yours,” he whispered this time, as he buried his face in the folds of Ian’s shirt.

Mickey let out a sigh at the feel of Ian’s fingers running through his hair, slowly pushing him downward until his knees touched the ground. “That’s right, Mickey. You’re mine. Just mine.” He knew the words weren’t directed only at him, as he turned his head he could see that everyone in the loft was still watching them.

It made Mickey want to hug Ian’s legs closer to him and shout his as he threaten to beat the fucking shit out of each and every one of them…but Mickey stopped himself. That wasn’t his job, his role. He had to leave that to Ian, who was doing a damn fine job.

“And I though last night was the climax. Who needs some ice water, because I know I do,” Brian said before draining the glass of water in his hand, “Fuck, you need to stop hiding him, Ian. Bring him to all the parties,” Brian added, sliding a plate piled with strawberry pancakes toward Ian.

“I think I will,” Ian responded, taking the fork and spearing a larger strawberry while his other hand reached down rubs circles across Mickey’s back.

Mickey let out a pleasurable murmur, pressing into the hand that felt so good on his back. _What a difference a night makes._ Mickey though to himself. 

He never though he’d be able to do this. Letting go and enjoying it all. Letting someone else-- fuck that, it was Ian and only Ian-- take the lead. Damn he wished he’d known how much he’d enjoy it years before. He would have stopped playing dom long ago.

He hoped Ian never got tried of him.

***The Night Before***

Breathe, he just had to breathe.

In…out….in…out…in…out.

“You okay there boy?”

Mickey blinked open his eyes, winching at the light but looking toward the voice anyways, toward Ian who was kneeling over him. Holding onto his hand, grounding him, “Yes Sir, I’m good, I’m…” amazing, that was the only word he could think of for how he felt.

Being completely depended on Ian as he hung there…as Ian played with and enjoyed him, fuck that has been one of the best fucks of his life. He’s never let go like that, just given in, fuck he didn’t even remember getting down Mickey added to himself, glancing around him at the pull out sofa he and Ian were on.

Yeah, he only had the vaguest fucking clue how’d they’d gotten there. He remembered something about being lowered to his knees and being carried, Ian could lift him? It must have been someone else but damn it all if he cared right then. Mickey stopped thinking about it and snuggled close to Ian, wrapping an arm around Ian. “Yours,” he mumbled, burying his head into Ian’s jean covered leg.

“Mine,” He head Ian say above him as he felt his dom’s hand in his hair. God it felt so good, he wanted the night to never end. He wanted to be like this forever.

[ ](http://s55.photobucket.com/user/pairatime/media/others%20work/Mickey-Ian%20KBB%20-%20divider%20-%20250x800_zpsclopewml.png.html)

Part II

***The Late Morning After***

Forever didn’t last fucking long enough Mickey thought as he sat next to Ian on the El.

He already felt weird about Ian running one of his hands through his dark locks. It made his skin feel too tight and he almost wanted to ask the red head to stop….but it had felt so fucking great last night and that morning.

Less than a fucking hour ago he’d been begging for it and now… “Fuck—” he shouted, lashing out with his fist, punching the conveniently placed hard plastic seat divider. Too fucking convenient. “Fucking bitch.” He shook his hand, trying not to wince at the pain shooting through his wrist each time he flexed it.

“Mickey, now why did you go and do that?” Ian’s voice cut right through Mickey’s train of thought, and the pain, when his Dom grabbed his hand. Slowly massaging the reddening skin.

“It’s just--hell, this is just fucking weird, that’s what,” Mickey swore, pulling his arm from Ian’s grasp, trying to figure out what the fuck had changed.

Something that got a lot harder-but somehow easier-when he suddenly felt a hand around his neck, the fingers digging in the back of his neck and thumb pushing into the tender spots under his chin, pulling his head to the side mading sure he was focused only on what was now in front of him, Ian, his Dom. And fuck, Ian clearly wasn’t feeling any less his Dom just because they weren’t in the rope guy’s loft.

Looking into Ian’s eye’s Mickey was glad of that; at least one of them knew what the fuck was going on. Mickey could tell that before Ian started talking.

“You’re mine, I thought we made that clear last night and again this morning. So stop trying to hurt yourself-that’s my job.” And God Mickey loved that smirk even if that line was just so damn overused. “And tell me what the fuck is going through your head.”

An order, Mickey could deal with an order. Not that he had much choice, Ian’s grip was so damn strong. The fucker was packing some meat on that scrawny frame. “Last night, fuck-an hour ago this was fucking fine. Hell it was more than fine but now it’s freaking me out. I’m fucking panicking!” And fuck he was, why did he tell the redhead that. Fuck.

“ _Mine_.” Goddamn that word from Ian’s lips did things to him and when Ian repeated it, even closer to Mickey’s ear he did the only thing his mind would let him, he answered.

“Yours. _So_ fucking yours.” He might be freaking out but fuck he belonged to Ian. Even his freak-out wasn’t stopping that apparently Mickey realized happily as he leaned toward his Dom. “Why is this so fucking hard?” Really he wanted— _needed_ —to know why this couldn’t be easier.

“I don’t know. But you’re mine. That part is easy.”

The blunt statement sounded so good to him. His Dom wanted him, fuck ups, freak outs and all. “Yeah”

“When we get to the house—” Ian kept talking, he heard his voice but that word…fuck.

House! As in the fucking Gallagher place. The one where everyone already thought he was fucking Ian but fuck that keeping up after last night. One look at him and they’re goin fucking know who was really taking it up the ass and it wasn’t their brother. Fuck.

And fuck--getting hit on the back of the head hurt when he wasn’t flying high. “The fuck was that for?” Mickey demanded, rubbing his scalp.

“I need a reason?”

Fuck. Didn’t that tone make his cock hard?

“But next time don’t zone off on me.” Fuck Mickey loved Ian’s smirk, “Someone slip you a joint or shrooms and why didn’t you share?”

“Nah, nothing…it’s just,” Ian’s shirt was wrinkled and way too loose. It needed to get washed, make it tight again--

“Mickey,”

“They’re gonna know I’m a fucking sub,” Mickey snapped seconds after Ian’s words, and their steel-like tone hit his ears. Fuck he was a whipped sub, in more ways then one. “I just don’t know if I can…fuck.”

“Okay, it’s okay. You should head to your place first, check and see if your baby has popped yet.”

Hell. Yeah, his _wife_ probably had the kid by now. “I’m not-like that’s any better, fuck, I might be a father. Assuming the kid’s even mine.” Fuck, what was he going to do if it was?

***That Night***

“We need to talk, Blondie,” Mickey didn’t wait for an answer as he shoved past the subby cop the moment the door was open wide enough. Making sure to shoulder check Tony.

He was in charge of what was about to happen and he didn’t give a fuck if they were both subs.

“Well hello, Mickey, twice in one day? Uncle Terry must be rolling in his prison cell.” At least the copper had a good sense of humor, Mickey thought as he turned back toward him once he was in the middle of the nice sized, and really fucking empty, living room-didn’t the guy own any stuff? 

But yeah if his father knew he was here, just rolling would be the least of the things his pops would do to the two of them. “Well he doesn’t know, what he doesn’t know can’t get us popped….you’re in fucking normal clothes, don’t you people like…live in your uniforms or some shit?” Because out of his uniform the guy wasn’t bad looking. He had that whole tall, blond hair and blue eyes thing going for him. Fuck that’s not the head he needed to be thinking with right now.

“Cops aren’t robot clones, Mickey. We get to go home and be regular people some of the time. I got off work an hour ago, just having dinner. You want some?” Fuck that smile. How can anyone from the neighborhood look that open and honest, pig or not? But something did smell good.

Looking across the room toward the large dinning room table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the otherwise largely open space, covered with a couple-three dishes of food and a lone plate and glass…”fuck man, you do all this for yourself? I don’t even do this much for Mandy and me.” But it did smell like it was really good he thought, walking toward the table to see what was in the bowls.

Mickey watched the cop sit down, shrugged and joined him next to the table-peas and…mac and cheese? “What the fuck did you do to the mac-n-cheese, and why is it in that…whatever it is?” Mickey questioned, pointing toward a white dish holding a golden brown cheesy mess.

“The casserole dish? You’ve never had baked macaroni and cheese?” Tony asked.

Mickey glared at the guy, so he’d never had it baked; they always had better uses for the oven, like hiding the guns.

“Then you have to try it, I’ll get you a plate. We can talk about whatever you wanted to talk about.” Tony went on, not noticing Mickey’s annoyed expression.

What the fuck was with the guy? They barely knew each other. Even if the cop did think they were cousins-which they just might be-but just serving dinner to some guy? Was he asking to be kidnapped and made someone’s bitch? He’d make a better fucking one than Mandy that’s for damn sure

***The Afternoon***

It was quiet.

He hadn’t expected that, he’d expected to hear either his ‘wife’ yelling her head off or the baby bawling its head off the moment he got off the El, or at least once he hit his block but it didn’t sound any different. Maybe living with a baby wouldn’t be so bad after all, Mickey thought with a smile. Hell, Ian had to share a room with one, he could share a house with one, if it was his anyways. He could deal.

With that thought, Mickey flipped open the gate and headed toward the door, kicking at the busted metal remains of…something, to get it back out of the narrow walkway and into the lawn with the rest of the crap where it belonged. 

Jumping up the steps then slipping through the door he glanced around. He still couldn’t hear anything. Hell he didn’t even see anyone. Maybe he could get a couple hours more of sleep before--

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Christ fuck, I’m barely through the door. And I’m a grown ass dom. I don’t report to you,” Mickey shouted back at his sister. Not even two steps into his house and already the peace and calm of the morning was gone. He wanted to do nothing more than turn right around and get back to Ian’s side where he belonged. Some dom he’d make, how the fuck had he even passed for so long. Were they all fucking morons?

“Then grow a pair and fucking _be_ one. Your wife and sub just gave birth to _your_ son but I had to be the one taking care of the paperwork. I had to fucking drive them home. They’re sleeping upstairs, by the way,” Mickey rolled his eyes at Mandy’s yells and shouts, shoving back when she shoved into him.

“Back off, you’re the woman, you’re the sub, you’re supposed to take care of that shit,” he added, parroting the family-- their father’s-- rule that men were doms and women were subs, ignoring how much more hollow those words felt after the last twelve hours. “Fucking deal with it,” he added in frustration.

“Oh, fuck you, Mickey. That line is a load of shit and we both know it. I’m not the fucking—”

“Shut your mouth!” Mickey screamed. He couldn’t hear it, not out loud, not from her. He just, “Fuck,” pushing her back—hard--his forearm finding her throat even as her fist found the side of his face.

He let out a growl and shoved harder at the shock of the hit, throwing her into the door jam and away from him. “Don’t say it, don’t you fucking say it, just don’t say it,” he repeated, his entire body shaking as he fell into the couch, jumping off it seconds later when he felt a spring poke him through the torn fabric, hitting him right in the spot where Ian had smacked him. “Jesus fuck I can’t even sit down?” he yelled.

“Mickey, we are what we are, our father—”

He didn’t hear anything further his sister may have said because suddenly all he could hear was a screeching cry echoing from upstairs followed almost immediately by a string of Russian curses cutting off everything else. “Fuck it all, now…I’m out of here,” Mickey told his sister, heading right for the door as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, hoping it would help him calm back down, but he knew it wouldn’t, what he knew he needed to calm down didn’t come in some cheap-ass paper box.

“Mickey wait, your kid—”

“Fuck him. He’s better off without me,” Mickey shouted over his shoulder. Stopping at the gate to light his smoke, Mickey let it calm him as much as it could before he started walking again. His feet taking him right toward the Gallagher’s, ignoring Mandy’s shouts behind him.

Down two blocks, over one and down another couple and he was on the back alley heading to the Gallagher place. With its newish looking paint job, empty lawn save for snow, even the pool had been cleaned up, it didn’t look a mess, unlike the Milkovich place but whatever, Mickey didn’t care, he wasn’t here for the scenery, not the outside kind anyways.

Mickey chuckled at his own joke, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the yard, letting out the last cloud of smoke as he turned the knob to head inside.

Only it didn’t open. “What the fuck?” he complained, pushing at the door again, rattling the handle. Since when did the Gallaghers lock their door? He kicked at it in frustration. Damn he really fucking needed…fuck he didn’t know what he needed…

***That Night***

“You really cook this much shit just for yourself?” How the fuck does the cop eat it all? Mickey thought as he dug out another large scoop of the mac-n-cheese on the plate Tony had gotten for him. The casserole barely looked touched, fuck the one dish probably would feed Mandy and him for a week.

And did the copper ever stop smiling, come on man, “I like cooking for others so most of it ends up in the station break room. I think I feed some of the guys more than their subs or doms at home do. Don’t forget the peas.”

Mickey frowned at the bowl of green vegetables Tony passed to him. He almost wanted to flip in back into the cop’s face. He fucking hated vegetables but…he was eating the man’s grub and he did want his questions answered…fuck it. A few peas wouldn’t kill him, “Fine. I’ll eat my veggies _Mom_.” he snapped. And fuck, was the guy really smirking at that. The cop was so fucked in the head.

“That’s a good sub. Now, what is it you wanted to talk about? Because if it’s Ian, we’ve never really done anything. He’s too young-- as much as he doesn’t act it—and, well, I was mostly trying to get Fiona to notice me and while that would have done it, it wouldn’t have been quite the outcome I was after at the time.”

The first words made Mickey freeze, stop himself from reacting. He didn’t want to blow up at the cop like he had Mandy, because friend of Ian and the Gallagher’s or not, no cop was going to let a punk like him go at him and not drag him in…but he didn’t want to come out swinging at the pig…why the fuck didn’t he? He could hear this copper call him a sub but he couldn’t hear it from Mandy…and what the fuck has been between him and his Dom “You fucking did something with Ian? Because your fucking badge won’t stop me from beating the shit out of you,” he spat out, letting the spoon drop back into the vegetable bowl with a clatter as he glared at Tony, okay so he didn’t want to swing but-.

Fuck he just swore he wasn’t going to do that. And what the fuck, since when does someone just smile and shake their head at his threat…what the fuck had happened to his world.

“You really think I’d go after the 15-16 year old kid brother of the woman I was offering myself to? Really? It was the other way around.” The cop’s voice was confident, strong. Great delivery for a lie, the perfect bluff, playing cards with him might be fun…unless Tony wasn’t trying to pull one over on him…

Mickey took another good long look at the cop—no, the _man_ —because Ian and the Gallaghers never really hated cops the way Milkoviches did. He’d already decided Tony was good looking. And, living so close, Ian would see him often, and his Gallagher did have a thing for uniforms. Maybe he liked seeing Tony heading to work or coming home. And what Ian liked, he went after. But would he have the balls to try and dom a cop almost ten years older than him? “Fuck or course the fire crotch would try doming you.”

Tony chuckled a bit but it didn’t really bother him. Mickey had a feeling he wasn’t the one the cop was laughing at. “You ever think about letting him? Now that he’s legal? Or are you still hung up on his psycho bitch of a sister?” Mickey asked before he started shoveling the food into his mouth. He wanted to eat as much as he could before Tony said the wrong thing and he ended up wanted for assault.

“That’s your dom’s sister you’re taking about.” Tony said, his voice firm.

Mickey just rolled his eyes. Tony really was too nice to be from the southside.

“And,” Tony’s voice was low and gruff, “it’s getting harder to say no, especially when Ian acts like he did earlier…fuck that was…fuck you have a hot dom.”

“Fuck, yeah I do,” Mickey echoed.

***The Afternoon***

The back door remained stubbornly locked even as Mickey kicked it again. “Fuckin’ Gallagher,” he yelled, stomping his way through the yard around to the front, kicking and flinging the snow everywhere.

Muttering and cursing, he made his way up the front steps, thumping hard on each one. Whatever semblance of peace he had found that morning long gone, and getting farther away as he jerked and pulled at the front door only to find it locked and unwilling to budge either. “What the fuck, they never fucking lock the fucking doors, where the fuck is everyone,” Mickey ranted, shoving himself over the railing to look in the window, only to find an empty living room. “What the fuck? Frank not’s even here, fuck!”

“It’s been different lately. Taking some getting used to. Used to be a dozen people in and out at all hours but the last couple of months I can actually sleep through the day sometimes, and most nights even.”

“Fuck?” Mickey questioned, turning to see a cop standing on the other side of the fence between the Gallagher’s place and their neighbor. He was leaning over like he had the right to pry into Mickey’s business just because he had a badge and a gun. Fuck that, Mickey had all the guns he wanted and he didn’t need a fucking badge. “Fuck off, pig, I’m not doin’ nothin’, they know me,” Mickey made clear, jerking his thumb at the house.

“I know, Mickey, I’ve seen you and your sister over here. Your sister seemed to live here since before spring and all summer. Until Lip headed off for college anyways,” the officer explained. “But right now none of them are around, Fiona’s job hunting and the kids are at school.” 

“You fucking pigs spying on me and mine?” Mickey yelled back, fist balling; how dare the asshole pigs think they can just watch them. Watch his dom and his family. He didn’t think so. “You’d better watch yourself or you’ll find yourself-“

“Whoa, cool it tough guy, man Uncle Mick was right, the Milkovich side of the family are just a bunch of hot heads.”

Uncle Mick? This pig knows Mick? “You know Uncle Mick? How the fuck does a pig know Uncle Mick, you know what never mind. Just tell me what the fuck you’re doing watching the Gallagher’s before I stop giving a fuck about that badge,” because no one fucks with what’s his, and that includes his dom’s family.

_The cop might have some bite in him_ , Mickey thought as he watched Tony’s face go carefully blank, just like he’d seen other cops do a million times, right before they drew their guns or fucking went and tried arresting his brother or pop. Fuck that, he wasn’t getting busted for protecting Ian’s home from some nosey pig. 

“Damn, you know, you say that to the wrong guy you’ll get dragged in for threatening an officer, which is what you just did, Mickey. But I’m not going to so calm down. Now.”

Mickey frowned as he looked at the now relaxed looking cop. The man wasn’t even resting his hand on his gun. Cops always did that around him. What the fuck was up. “You still haven’t answer my question. Why the fuck you watching them?”

“I’m not. I live here too. I’m their neighbor. I’ve know Fiona since before high school. But you have no idea who I am do you?” Why was the cop looking at him weird? That wasn’t how cops were suppose to look at him, they should look like they want to beat his head in, not…Mickey wasn’t even sure what that look meant, but it wasn’t fucking right. He knew that much.

“Who gives a fuck if I don’t, why should I fucking care about you? You’re a shit pig who’s name I don’t even know,” Mickey spat, but his heart wasn’t in it, and from the look on the cop’s face he knew it, but fuck all, he just didn’t care right now.

The cop nodded and held out his hand, “The name’s—”

“Tony,” Mickey turned at the sound of Ian’s voice behind “I see you’ve finally met Mickey and you don’t even have cuffs out. This is so cool seeing you both here” Ian dropped a grocery bag into the snow before coming up to join the two men at the fence line. “I was just thinking about all the guys in my life. What’re you two up to?”

“You know this—”

“Just introducing myself to my cousin.”

What the fuck had the copper said? ‘What sick joke was he up to’ Mickey questioned, his mind locking up as he glared at the boy in blue before looking back toward Ian. “You know this fucking joker?” Mickey asked Ian, jerking his thumb at the cop, feeling Ian drape an arm over his shoulders, leaning in close. 

For a moment Mickey wanted nothing more than to lean into it. Let his dom hold him. But then his eye caught the cop watching them and he felt a chill. Fuck if he’d give the cop a show. Fuck that Mickey decided as he slid to the side making Ian lean more into the metal fence post instead of on him.

“What? Tony? Yeah he’s been bringing Frank home for years, fell for Fiona, even bought the house next door to try and get her. But she’s not the dom he needs, or you know a dom at all, and we all know it.” He watched as Ian leaned over the fence while he answered until Ian was as close to the cop as most of the men got to him at the club, which was way too close for Mickey. His dom was his and needed to stay clear of the cop.

“Everyone hold their fucking horses,” Mickey shouted, his body heating up in all the wrong ways at the sight of Ian so close to Tony, and from the way the guy was swallowing hard, there was some kind of story there but that wasn’t his priority.

Holding out one hand toward Tony, not touching him but making sure he couldn’t move forward, Mickey used the other to pull Ian back to him. “Gallagher get away from the cop,” Mickey ordered. He pulled him back to see that smug smirk on the teen’s face which meant he knew he’d just made Mickey jealous and had done it on purpose. Fuck, Mickey was starting to fucking hate—and love—that smirk.

“Fuck you,” he told Ian before looking back at Tony. “You’re a fucking sub and a cop? How does that even work? You just pretending to be a man? And what the fuck’s this about us being something?” Mickey questioned, feeling better now that Ian was standing with him, and for the moment he wasn’t even going to care that Ian was holding the back of his neck in the middle of the front lawn. He wasn’t about to let the fucking sub cop get any ideas about Ian.

“Yeah, I’m a man. The name’s Tony Markovich, your kind of cousin. Uncle Terry and his views on dynamics aren’t just outdated, they’re relics from over two centuries ago. You have more family than you know, Mickey. If you ever want to meet them you know where I am.” The whole time Tony spoke, Mickey could feel the guy’s eyes focused on him. It wasn’t a glare, it wasn’t a leer. Fuck he didn’t know what it was but the cop wouldn’t stop giving it to him right until Ian spoke and then blue boy was looking at his dom, in all the wrong ways.

“That offer for both of us?”

Mickey’s dick got rock hard at the sound of his dom’s voice and it wasn’t even directed at him. But fuck that hand gripping his cock. Was his dom trying to kill him?

Fuck the guy looks more red than blue and unless the uniform was adding a few inches…and the look he was giving Ian. “I need to get back at work.” Mickey let out a breath, grateful as Tony turned away, heading back toward the cruiser parked on the street. Mickey wasn’t sure if he was going to slug him or push Tony to his knees but neither would have ended well…“Fucking cop,” Mickey whispered under his breath.

“That would be fun…Anyways. Mickey, why are you here? I thought you wanted to get home, sleep in _your_ bed for a few hours?”

Mickey wanted to glare at Ian for throwing his own words back at him but instead he settled for picking up the bag from the snow. “The baby started crying, Mandy was being a bitch, I thought see what you were up to then the fucking boy in blue showed up,” he told Ian, following him inside.

“You’re a dad, congratulations. Today is just a big family day for you. Your kid, your cousin Tony, who’s a cop, who’s your cousin,” Ian’s smile was going to get old, and fast. “I clearly have a thing for your family. Best friend is your sister, you’re my sub, cousin is my old crush who will also be my sub. You have any other family members I need to look up?”

“How the fuck should I know, I didn’t even know about him,” Mickey answered back, the same question racking his own brain. Trying to remember anything he’d ever heard about family from his pop, mother--anyone--but coming up mostly dry. His father talked about _family_ a lot but he rarely meant anyone other than his kids and himself.

“Well Tony’s not a bad guy. He’s even helped out the family a few times. And subs in uniform. He blushes real red too. He was the source of more then a few fantasies…just like you, Mickey.”

Mickey really didn’t know if he loved or hated that smirk…no fuck that.

He knew he loved it.

***That Night***

“When Ian really wants something…it’s not easy to say no…especially when he _makes_ you want it too,” And damn his dom was right, Tony did look hot when he blushed.

“Yeah, he knows how to get what he wants, whatever, or whoever, that fucking happens to be,” Mickey agreed, scarfing down the mac-n-cheese. “And this is fucking good. How the fuck aren’t you chained up in someone’s kitchen? Because if I wasn’t worried about Mandy or my father cutting my ball’s off I’d do it right now.” Fuck, he might just risk it. This was good shit.

And damn, the cop look hot when he was turning red and trying to hide his face. Fuck that smile. He could see what his dom liked about the guy.

“Thanks, Mickey.” Mickey laughed at the cough.” Now about why you’re here…”

Why he was here? Damn right he’d come for a reason. What was it? Fuck, Mandy was right, get food in front of him and he fucking forgets about everything…Mandy, damn, family. “You said we were cousins. And you said something about Uncle Mick? Because I gotta say the idea of being related to one of you blue boys-” he just shook his head. He had no idea how to explain how that made him feel, other than creeped the hell out.

“You remember anything about your Uncle Mick?”

“Uncle Mick…what’s to remember, he bit it when I was like nine or something. But I was named after him or some shit. What about Uncle Mick?” How did the cop know Uncle Mick, he wasn’t that old. Not if he was chasing around Ian’s sister? Hell he barely remembered Uncle Mick, not after the falling out between he and Pop over _something_ and then him dying or whatever. “How the fuck you even know my uncle Mick?” Mickey demanded to know.

“He’s my Uncle Mick too, Mickey. And he’s alive. Mom had him over for Thanksgiving along with his kid, and their kids.”

Mickey just looked at the cop, trying to make sense of what the fuck he was saying. He wasn’t related to any cop, his father wouldn’t stand for it. He’d get out his guns if someone even talked about it, he’d flat out disown any Milkovich that tried to become a cop, and that was only if he couldn’t kill the unlucky bastard first… wait, is that- “Uncle Mick’s a fucking alive and a cop?” What the fuck? How did he not know either, what the fuck?

“What? No. Uncle Mick does construction. It’s his sister-in law, my mother, who was the cop, along with my dad. Your Aunt Hanna, Hanna Markovich? And you have no idea what or who I’m talking about, do you?”

He looked at Tony for a long minute after he had stopped talking, trying to remember what he could about his extended family. He knew his father had siblings, he even remembered Uncle Mick until he was about seven or eight, but a wife? An Aunt? That shit he didn’t remember but if he married into a cop family…fuck this shit. His head hurt and he just wanted Ian.

“My Uncle married a cop’s sister? And my pop didn’t kill them both?” Because that was some messed up shit. Like really.

“Well it didn’t go over well from what I remember and I’m guessing that’s why you were told he died but even Uncle Terry isn’t stupid enough to try and go after a family of cops like that.” Mickey had to agree with Tony. His father wasn’t always all there but going after a family of coppers…,

“That why you become a cop? Because it’s what the family does? Raise assholes in training?” They must fuck like bunnies to make all the assholes he has to deal with and avoid everyday.

“We’re not all assholes. We have some, sure, but most of us just want to do the right thing and help people.” And fuck if Tony didn’t look like he meant it. Damn how had someone not just taken him and slapped a collar around his neck? 

Damn, that was the other thing. “Yeah if you say so… Now how can you be okay with being a man and a sub? And a fucking cop to boot. How the hell does that work?” Because Mickey really couldn’t understand how it could. The only men he’d seen be subs were the fucking queens, weird ass pussies or damn hippy yuppies and all those kinds of fuckers. And he wasn’t one of those, fuck that. “Are you like the station bitch, do the other coppers…you know?”

“No. I don’t. There isn’t a station bitch. And I’m not the only sub.” Mickey had to chuckle as Tony rolled his eyes. “And being a man and being a sub are two different things. I’m both but I’m also a cop, a cook, your cousin. Just like you’re more than a thug and Ian’s boy.”

Great, just what he needed, someone else telling him he could be more than he was. Perfect. “And what’s wrong with that? I got a dom who owns me, which is more than a lot of subs around here. And I am a thug, it’s why I can do whatever the hell I want and people fucking let me,” Mickey said as he dropped his fork and stood up, moving toward Tony in a single step.

Tony’s neck felt warm under his hand as he grabbed it, and Mickey almost wanted to laugh at just how weak his cousin’s attempt to push his arm away was. “Do you have any idea just how much sub ass I’ve had? Had because I said I wanted it and the pussies couldn’t say no.” And fuck the way Tony fell to his knees the moment Mickey pulled him from the chair. Fuck he was rock hard.

Mickey pulled Tony closer, until he could feel the press of warm skin against his jeans, he could almost feel the heat on his cock. Fuck he wanted to make a point but…fuck. Ian hadn’t said he couldn’t. “Fuck?” Why the fuck were Tony’s hands stopping him from dropping trou. He could see the look in the subs eyes, he fucking wanted it. “What the fuck?” 

“No, Just…no.” And fuck Tony did had a backbone and wasn’t just some pussy because the cop sounded like he meant it too. And fuck didn’t that just turn him on. Damn the man for standing up.

“I’m fucking hard and you can’t take your eyes off my junk so why fucking not?” Mickey forced himself not to just grab the cop and stick the guy onto his dick. He knew Ian wouldn’t like that.

“You’re-You. Ian? You’d do this to Ian? And I don’t do hook ups.” Watching Tony stand up, and get farther from his cock was hard, almost as hard as following the cop’s comments.

“Ian said he wanted you. He would be thrilled I got you to jump my bones. And what do you mean you don’t do hook ups? Sub or not you did say you were still a guy right?” Mickey looked south on the guy just to make sure. “Because I’m pretty sure that bulge in your pants ain’t socks,” he added, pointing. “Or do you mean you don’t go down? Weird for a sub but I’ll do you first. I’m cool with that,” he said as he dropped to his knees while pulling down Tony’s zipper. 

Leaning forward Mickey sucked the older man’s boxer clad cock into his mouth, letting out puffs of hot air when he exhaled.

“Mick-fuck-”

Tony’s groans went right to Mickey’s own groin. He could feel the blood rushing into his cock, he knew it was every bit as hard as Tony’s. Fuck he wanted that cock. Mickey pulled the cop’s dick free, engulfing it. The feeling of Tony’s fingers in his hair.

And fuck they felt so different from Ian’s. Tony’s hands were larger, maybe even stronger but they weren’t grabbing his hair the way his dom did. Tony was barely touching his hair and nowhere near grabbing his head and skull fucking him like Ian. Damn if Mickey had any doubts about the guy being a sub before-fuck they weren’t going to have any real fun if he didn’t shake this up. 

Dropping Tony’s cock from his mouth, Mickey stood, smirking at how flushed the other man looked, damn he was good. “Just when was the last time you got sucked off, blue boy? Or should I call you blue ball boy?” Mickey grinned, letting out a chuckle, at the joke. 

“I…I meant it when I said I don’t have one night stands or one off blow jobs.” Well fuck, even breathless and half panting Mickey thought Tony really did sound like he meant it. For being an out and open sub, his cousin was hard up. But how hard up?

“I asked a question, when blue boy,” Mickey repeated with his best dom voice. Smiling when Tony dropped his head and blurted out ‘year and a half, sir’ before turning even redder. It might not work on Ian, or fool his sister, but he still had it. Fuck yeah.

“It’s been too fucking long since your ass got used then. After I suck you dry we’re going to call Ian over here and he’ll fill your ass, and this time you’re not saying no,” Mickey ordered, grinning as he pushed Tony to the floor, straddling the older man while pulling out his phone, hitting speed dial.

“Fuck, Mickey don’t,” Mickey grinned at the pathetic attempt at keep away, holding the phone just out of reach. The guy clearly didn’t have any brothers, or a sister.

“Really, that’s all you got? And you know you want Ian here. I can feel it, hell I can see it,” Mickey said as he grinded his cock into Tony’s hard dick, watching it jump each time he said Ian’s name. “So you want him to fuck you,” he laughed, waving the phone around, clicking send.

“No, Mickey. Damn. I don’t want that…I don’t get fucked Mickey. That’s why I always turn Ian down. He’d want to and I haven’t bottomed since college. I really don’t like it.”

Mickey looked at Tony. The guy had to be lying. A sub that didn’t want to get fucked…that was just….really? “So you don’t, what do you do? You blow guys off right? Because even Ian, hell everyone does that,” and if this guy didn’t…what the fuck.

“Yeah I’m cool with blowjobs but most doms want more, especially the second or third time. I mean they’re cool with me cooking and cleaning for them and sucking them off but they always want to do more, even the women, they always want to pull out the toys. But it’s my limit. So…” watching Tony shrug, Mickey narrowed his eyes as he watched the man under him turn red again. But for a very different reason this time.

“Fuck them, limits are limits. If you don’t want to get fucked you don’t get fucked. I got my own hang ups, Ian comes near me with a gun I’ll clean his clock. In fact I did when he tried using that gun dildo. Fuck. Those I don’t play with.” Mickey dropped to the carpet next to Tony as he ranted, resting on the larger guy. “You good with fucking someone else? Because Ian’s talked about watching another guy fucking me but he always gets jealous before he’s even done talking about it. But if it’s you. He might go for it…if you’re his too.” And fuck the guy had a nice chest, firm in all the right places but not so hard it hurt his head. He could lay like this all day.

“Damn that would be hot. He could sit in that chair, I’d give him a drink and cigar and then he’d tell us how he wanted us to do it…damn,” Mickey smirked at how breathless his fellow sub sounded, and how hard he felt but damn that sounded like a good fantasy Mickey decided as he leaned in closer.

It felt weird holding a guy, not bad but not…not right either, or not right in the way that being held by Ian felt right. He watched as Tony slowly unclenched his fist and started to breath easier, deeper. Mickey even felt himself smirk as he felt Tony wrap his arms around him, completing the hug. His cousin was totally a dom trapped in a sub’s body, and not even in the switch way. Ian was going to have fun with him.

“Thanks, Mickey. Thanks but I’m sure Ian wouldn’t want to share you. And who would want a sub that…” The first words were soft. Mickey almost wasn’t sure if he’d really heard them but, his mind wouldn’t make up something so fucking sentimental. And cuddling, because fuck that’s what they were doing, two guys in two days. What the fuck had happened with his life.

“Ya, don’t mention it. It’s what family does. Ian would be pissed if I didn’t…” and damn that’s why Ian was so mad at him that afternoon. He was going to have to make up for earlier with Mandy and his kid. He’d really messed that up.

“Ian won’t care. You’re his but I’m not-”

“You really don’t listen well do you Tony. I told you that you were mine five years ago and I damn well meant it. I just didn’t realize that Mickey would be the best way to make _you_ realize that.”

Mickey saw Tony’s head snapping toward the door out of the corner of his eye as he’s own eyes locked on the door way and his redhead dom close the door behind him. Fuck yeah, he didn’t know how long Ian had been watching and it only made it hotter. 

“Now what was that about a drink while my boy’s fuck?”

The night just got better Mickey decided as he watched Tony scramble toward the min-bar.

***Epilog: A Few Nights Later***

Mickey smiled at Tony as he walked into Dreamland and saw Ian dancing center stage, or center bar anyways. Fuck, his Ian looked hot, dressed in a pair of camo shorts and boots, nothing else, Mickey wanted nothing more than to curl around those legs….

Fucking damn he really had turned into a damn dick bitch hadn’t he? Fuck, who gave a damn, Ian didn’t, Tony didn’t, hell Tony was turning into every bit Ian’s bitch too. Mickey reminded himself as he grabbed Tony by the arm and marched over, claiming two seat in front of Ian, forcibly removing the suit wearing pansy who had been getting a bit too grabby with Ian’s shorts.

And the cop part of their trio had let him…Mickey glanced over at Tony, expecting a glare or something like he had done every time he, or Ian, had broken some bullshit law or another. Only blue boy wasn’t looking at him.

Tony’s eyes were glued to Ian. His fellow sub knew that Ian did…Mickey hadn’t even thought to ask if the other man had ever been to a strip joint before…he was a grown man but.

Fuck, the guy was so fucking innocent sometimes. He was going to have so much fun helping change that. 

Hell, by the smirk on Ian’s face, they all were.


End file.
